


Cross the Highways of Fantasy

by fancastical



Series: spideypool shorts [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Chance Meetings, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Peter and Weasel were nemeses in college, Peter's Web of Lies, Sort Of, Spideypool - Freeform, professor!Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 15:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15489165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancastical/pseuds/fancastical
Summary: 'A mutual friend tried to introduce us, but we already knew each other and neither of us want to admit it, so I jokingly said we used to date and oh god now our friend won't stop interrogating us about it au'I changed the original prompt slightly, but yeah, that's really it. Welcome to the first of hopefully many spideypool oneshots.





	Cross the Highways of Fantasy

Peter hadn’t seen Jack in actual years. He had kind of assumed Jack was dead, in fact. What other explanation could there have been for his once fierce academic rival in college to suddenly fall off the face of the planet? They’d been going for the same internship in their last semester, and then suddenly, Jack was gone and Peter got it by default. 

So finding him again at a seedy bar in a part of town Peter usually tried to avoid out of his suit? You better believe he had questions.

“I fell in with a different crowd,” Jack told Peter, pouring him a shot, totally unprompted. Peter took it and downed it anyway. He didn’t usually drink,  but what the hell. Tonight was already kind of crazy. “Strange people, interesting work, _ very _ lucrative.”

“You’re a bartender,” Peter pointed out, pushing the empty shot glass back over to him. Jack tapped his nose. 

“I pour the drinks,” he replied. “And I talk to everyone that comes through here. If you think Sister Margaret's is about the booze, my friend, you’re dumber than I thought.”

Peter shrugged. There was a reason he was here, after all. “I guess you’ve got a point,” he said. “And I guess that’d mean you’re the one I need to talk to.”

“What’s Puny Parker looking for in a place like this?” Jack asked. Peter rolled his eyes. No one had even called him that in college. That was purely high school, though Jack had found out and used it to needle him. Like he hadn’t been called worse. 

“Information, mostly,” Peter said. This was a favor for Daredevil, actually. Peter owed him big enough that it was worth coming to a place like this in his unassuming physics professor persona to get answers. And anyway, it wasn’t like the questions would link back to Spider-Man. He had a cover story. “About a name.”

“Jumping into business so quick?” Jack asked, and poured Peter another shot. “Come on, man, I haven’t seen you since you sabotaged my thesis project. We got catching up to do. What are you doing these days?”

“Okay, first of all,” Peter said, pointing at Jack seriously, “I did not sabotage anything. But I distinctly remember  _ you _ throwing my chemistry notebook in a puddle the day before a big exam.”

Jack grinned at him. “Dude, you set my bag on fire ‘coz I told you your experimental design was flawed.”

Peter took the shot that had been offered to him, shook his head sharply, and replied, “I set your bag on fire ‘cause you were a  _ dick _ , Hammer. And it was not flawed.”

“It was _so_ _flawed_ ,” Jack said, leaning against the counter. “You were talking out of your ass that entire semester. I remember you got all social justice warrior about genetic mutations and almost _cried._ ”

“You’re so full of  _ crap _ , Jack, I can’t believe no one ever pulled that stick out of your ass--”

Jack laughed. “Man, you still got that PG-13 rating, huh?”

“I literally just said ‘ass’,” Peter responded, though he was grinning now, too. “If you give me another one of those shots, you might even get an f-bomb out of me.”

“Saucy,” Jack said, pouring another. The door opened and shut, and he waved over whoever had just come inside. “Hey! Get over here, asshat. Meet my old nemesis.”

Peter took his third shot, feeling pleasantly buzzed now, and turned on his stool.

The newcomer scoffed as he slid into the next seat over. “You still tryna convince people you had a life before I showed up, Weasel?” 

“Wade, this is Peter Parker, douchebag scientist,” Jack said. Peter stared at Deadpool, who he’d never seen fully out of his costume before. “Pete, this is--”

“Wade Wilson, yeah,” Peter said. Wade stared back at him, caught wrong-footed, clearly unhappy with being maskless in front of Peter and temporarily silenced as a result. Jack looked back and forth between them, eyebrows going up.

“You two know each other?” he asked, and Peter had a brief moment of panic. Wade seemed amused behind the shock.

“Oh yeah,” he began. “Pete here--”

“We used to date,” Peter interrupted in a rush, before Deadpool could make some stupid spider related pun and give him away in a seedy, crowded bar. 

“Used to-- excuse me?” Jack demanded. Wade was gaping like a fish, now. 

“Well, haha,” Peter said, his voice going higher as he tried to communicate with Wade using only his eyes.  _ Play along, idiot. _ “I guess ‘dating’ is kind of a strong word for it.”

“W-what would you call it instead?” Wade asked, his eyes fixed on Peter like a startled rabbit. Peter shrugged and fidgeted with his empty shot glass. 

“Uh, fuck buddies?” he asked. Jack slammed another glass down on the bar, causing both Peter and Wade to startle and flinch. 

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” he said, pouring a generous shot. Wade reached for the glass, but Jack downed it all himself. “You two? How long ago was this, Pete? How the hell did I not know about it, Wade?”

“It was, uh, a few months ago,” Peter said, feeling the tension build as Wade just continued to gape. Peter shifted in his seat, using the movement to kick him. 

“Yeah, a few months ago,” Wade agreed. “I don’t have to tell you every time I get laid, dickwad.”

“Uh, except you always do anyway,” Jack disagreed. He looked back and forth between them, then added, “Wow, the awkward is strong with you two. Bet it ended  _ bad _ , huh?”

“Uh,” Peter said, his eyes widening. He either needed more alcohol or less, he couldn’t really tell. Wade started talking before Peter could come up with a reasonable answer, which was probably not the best plan.

“Petey here ghosted me after a few dates,” Wade said. He took the drink Jack had finally poured for him and downed it in one swallow. “Said my cock was too much for him to handle.”

“That is  _ not _ what happened,” Peter said, bright red. Jack cackled, and Peter was tempted to snatch the bottle of whiskey right out of his hand and finish it off. “Anyway, Wade, we both know you were the one  _ handling _ things.”

“Dude, tmi,” Jack interrupted, though he was still snickering. Deadpool had gone unexpectedly pink in the spaces between his scars.

“I’d handle what you’re packin’ again in a second, baby boy,” he responded, and something about being able to see his expression when he hit on Peter changed the tone entirely. That and the fact that Deadpool was _still_ _blushing_. Peter was pretty sure he was, anyway. 

“And they’re gross flirting,” Jack said, to no one in particular. “Of course they are. Peter, how the hell did you even meet this nasty, dried up cantaloupe? And decide you wanted to bang him?”

Peter spared an irritated glance at Jack for the entirely unnecessary insult. He knew enough about Wade’s insecurities to want to counteract it, especially since he was playing along so agreeably with Peter’s wild story.

“He saved me, actually,” Peter said, looking back at Wade again. “I got mugged, and he stepped in and helped me out. It was pretty sexy.”

“Dude, you realize he probably had a job,” Jack pointed out. “You totally had a job, didn’t you, Wade?”

“Uh,” Wade said. Peter rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I know he wasn’t looking out for me on purpose, asshole,” he cut in, before Wade could. This wasn’t a total lie, after all. Wade had absolutely stepped in and helped Spidey before, when he’d bit off more than he could chew. Peter didn’t know Wade’s motivations, and didn’t care as long as no one died.  “Doesn’t change the fact that I didn’t get stabbed that night because of him.”

“So, then what?” Jack asked, unfairly fascinated by this building morass of lies. Peter wished he would just accept it at face value already. “You said, ‘my hero!’ and fainted in his arms?”

“Actually--” Wade began, and Peter glared at him. 

“I asked him to come back to my place to wash the blood off,” Peter said firmly. “And one thing led to another. You know how it is.”

“We had sex,” Wade clarified, unnecessarily. “I totally got with this hot piece of ass. More than once.”

“A few times,” Peter agreed, because Jack was still looking kind of bewildered that someone might be interested in Wade. No wonder he talked about himself the way he did, with friends like this.

“Uh huh,” Jack said. He reflected on the situation for a moment, then added, “And then you ditched my man Wade, here. Sounds like a juicier story than you’re willing to admit.”

Peter shoved his shot glass at Jack, who promptly filled it, then added, “You know I’m charging you for these.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Peter grumbled, then downed his newest shot. He glanced at Wade, who he had almost expected to hear pick up the story when Jack dropped his most recent question. Wade was just watching him, now with the sort of blatant admiration Peter wasn’t used to being the focus of out of his mask.

He blamed that, and the liquor of course, for his next words. “I didn’t think you were serious,” he said. Wade blinked at him. “About-- I mean, I thought you were just in it for the sex,” he said, fumbling back to their story. 

“Didn’t think you’d want more than that, from me,” Wade responded, his voice suddenly deep and earnest. Peter couldn’t break eye contact. 

“I always thought we worked well together,” he offered. Wade raised a skeptical eyebrow, and Peter found himself grinning unexpectedly. “Well, okay, at first I thought you were the most annoying, immoral asshole I’d ever met in my life, and--”

“Noooo,” Wade interrupted in a small voice, poking Peter in the knee. “Go back to sayin’ nice shit about me.” Peter glanced down at his hand, as scarred as the rest of him, and shrugged.

“But,” he amended. “Once I got to know you a little better, once we spent some time around each other, I started liking you. And we do. Work well together.”

“That’s some rom-com level bullshit going on over there,” Jack called from the other end of the bar, where he was pouring a glass of something for another patron. “I swear to god if you two fuckers start making out in here, I’m gonna hose you down and kick both your asses to the curb.”

Wade looked like he was ready to call Jack’s bluff, so Peter shifted and reached for his wallet. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, fishing around for the right bills. Wade tossed some on the counter, still just looking at Peter. 

“I got you, baby boy,” he said. Peter shrugged, put his wallet away, and stood. He could get that information for Daredevil later.

“See you around, Jack,” he called. 

“If you’re gonna be coming in here on the regular, make it Weasel,” Jack called back, still at the other end of the bar. Peter glanced at Wade, who hadn’t moved, and smiled. 

“See you, Weasel,” he said, and took hold of the sleeve of Wade’s hoodie to drag him off his stool and out the door. 

The slightest tug on his sleeve had Wade obediently falling into step behind him as though Peter had used his full strength. Once they were outside, Wade looked around, lost, like he wasn’t a regular at the place they’d just stepped out of. Peter started walking in the vague direction of his own apartment, and glanced back when Wade didn’t follow. 

“You coming or what?” 

“Wh- uh. You want me to?” Wade asked, and at Peter’s nod, caught up and fell into step next to him. “What was that all about, Webs?”

“I thought it was a good cover,” Peter said, smiling to himself as he accidentally bumped shoulders with Wade. He was still feeling pleasantly buzzed. “Sounded true and everything.”

“Nothin’ about that sounded true,” Wade disagreed. “A babe like you, deciding to fuck a freak like me out of nowhere and for no good reason? It’s bullshit, Petey, clear and simple.”

“If I met you in... where do people meet these days?” Peter asked rhetorically. He didn’t even really know where people met when he was young. Whatever. “In a bar. If I met you in a bar, and you bought me a drink and we started talking, and the whole murder-thing wasn’t a... you know, thing. I’d go home with you.”

“Okay,” Wade said, dubiously. “That sounds fake, but okay.”

Peter laughed and elbowed Wade. “Or if... I was just Peter, none of the exciting spandex nightlife, and I got mugged, and you showed up and saved my ass? With you being all tall and built and funny? I’d invite you home to ‘clean off the blood’.”

“And then you’d get my mask off and realize what a fucking mistake it was,” Wade said, shrinking back into his hoodie as a couple guys passed by on the opposite side of the street. “And probably have to clean off the puke, next.”

“Your scars aren’t that bad,” Peter said baldly. “I mean, you’re not exactly gonna be a skin care model any time soon, but you aren’t made up of nothing but the worst parts of you, you know.”

“How much did you drink before I showed up?” Wade wondered out loud, scowling at nothing in particular. “Coz it sounds to me like you don’t know who you’re talking to.”

“Wouldn’t have said that if I was talking to someone else, Wade,” Peter said. “You’re the one who doesn’t get it. There’s more to you than the bad. And I’ve been thinking recently that the bad isn’t even all that bad. When’s the last time you killed someone?”

Wade stuffed his hands in his pockets and muttered to himself. Peter’s exceptional hearing picked up on it. 

“A few months? That’s pretty impressive for you, isn’t it?”

“Sounds to me like you want my disco stick,” Wade responded, instead of answering. “And you’re trying to convince yourself it’s a good idea.”

“Since when do you think it isn’t?” Peter asked. He bumped shoulders with Wade again. “Since when are you not hitting on me every other sentence? Where’s all the lame jokes and bad puns?”

“What does a nosy pepper do?” Wade asked obligingly. It was clear his heart wasn’t in it. 

“What?” Peter asked anyway. 

“Gets jalapeno business.”

Peter smiled. “That was pretty terrible.”

Wade glanced sideways at him. “Happy?”

“Am I the pepper?” Peter asked after a moment of deliberation. Wade snorted. 

“Is he the pepper,” he muttered. Peter just watched him as they walked, avoiding pitfalls in the sidewalk and ill-placed lamp posts with little bursts of low level spider sense. “Yeah. Kinda.”

“I’ll lay off, then,” Peter decided. “You don’t owe me anything, Wade. It’s fine.”

“Spidey, I don’t--”

“Hey,” Peter said, putting a hand on Wade’s arm. “It’s fine.” He patted down his own pockets and found a pen and a battered old receipt. “I get not being in the mood to deal with people, sometimes. So I’m gonna let you get on with your night. Thanks for playing along back there.”

He wrote for a moment on the receipt, then folded it up and handed it to Wade. “For when you’re up for it.”

Wade took the receipt and unfolded it, reading the words Peter had scribbled there with a crease between his hairless eyebrows. “IOU, six genuine compliments, three honest answers, and fifteen dollars worth of tacos. x Spider-Man.” He stared at the writing for another second, looking confused and a little irritated as he mumbled to himself. Peter tried not to listen in. Wade’s face cleared suddenly, and he said, “Is that an x like ‘signed’ or like a kiss?”

Peter felt his cheeks heat. It had been the former, but... “It’s up to you,” he decided. Wade shifted his gaze from the bit of paper to Peter’s face. 

“Can I have that part right now?” he asked. They both stopped walking, and Peter reached up and turned Wade’s face so that he could reach.

He leaned in and kissed him on the jaw, right above a particularly nasty looking scar, then said, “That was a freebie. You can have the real deal later.”

“Later?” Wade asked, looking a little dazed. 

“Yeah, once you’ve walked me home after I’ve paid for your fifteen dollar taco,” Peter said, brushing his thumb over Wade’s chin.

“Or my fifteen one dollar tacos,” he said, and Peter nodded.

“The quality of the taco or tacos is totally up to you.” He leaned in again, and watched Wade’s eyes fall shut. “You have my number, whenever you want to take me up on that IOU.”

Wade’s eyes snapped open. “Your number? No I don’t.”

Peter grinned at him. “It’s a riddle. You’ll figure it out.”

Wade frowned at him. Peter let his fingers brush over Wade’s jaw again (it was a very firm, sharp jaw), and stepped back. “Talk to you soon!”

“Wait,” Wade said, looking down at the receipt, then back up at Peter. “The riddle’s in the note? It’s the note, right?”

“Bye, Wade!” Peter called, already halfway down the street. “Have a good night!”

“Petey, wait! I have questions!”

Peter just waved over his shoulder and kept walking, smiling to himself. Wade would figure it out. It wasn’t a difficult riddle by any means. 

Not even three hours later, Peter got a text. 

**NYC has five area codes. FIVE. Petey is it you?!! -WW**

Peter laughed and slid down against his couch cushions, getting comfortable.

_ :) Hey Wade. PP _

**Author's Note:**

> I loved the idea of Weasel and Peter being rivals in school back in the sixties Spider Man comics, so I ran with it. :) 
> 
> I live for reviews, and am willing to take prompts! I'm trying to get back into writing regularly again. Wish me luck, people.


End file.
